


a world of shining hope

by prettyisak



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Angst, Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Holding Hands, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Sharing a Bed, Stargazing, Well - Freeform, everyone's a bit disgustingly in love in this i won't lie, feel free to skip that part if you need to though!, i promise there's more fluff than angst, it's in the past though and is only mentioned in one section and not in any detail, you'll see - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 09:45:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15628029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettyisak/pseuds/prettyisak
Summary: Isak has a strange inkling that he’s supposed to be far happier that his best friend is getting married to his literal soulmate than he currently is.or, the one where Isak is forced to remember his first heartbreak when he encounters the very person who caused it at his best friend’s wedding (turned travel au, turned sharing a bed au, turned many au’s all rolled into one)





	a world of shining hope

**Author's Note:**

  * For [art_vandeley_art](https://archiveofourown.org/users/art_vandeley_art/gifts).



> hey!
> 
> first of all, i want to say a massive massive thank you to [Ayesha](http://art-vandeley.tumblr.com) for creating the beautiful [artwork](https://prettyisak.tumblr.com/post/176816001762/art-vandeley-a-world-of-shining-hope-by) that inspired this fic <3
> 
> i'd also like to thank fenella for reading parts of this and just generally helping me with everything i owe you my life xo
> 
> also: i tried my hardest to make things accurate, but it's entirely not as my i struggled to find actual names for all the different places they visit, and also i know that during the summer in norway the sun is up like all the time (at least in some places right?) but it definitely sets in this fic so please just ignore any factual inaccuracies like that :)
> 
> title is from the song a time for us by andy williams if anyone's interested!
> 
> anyway, enjoy! 
> 
> any and all mistakes are mine

**Now**

Isak has a strange inkling that he’s supposed to be far happier that his best friend is getting married to his literal soulmate than he currently is. 

But he can’t seem to bring himself to shake off the heavy pressure sitting on his chest, weighing him down and making it much harder than it should be to force his lips into a bright smile as he watches Jonas and Mikael gaze into each others eyes lovingly as they slide shiny golden bands around each others fingers. 

Even Isak, as cynical as can sometimes be when it comes to love, can admit that the ceremony had been truly beautiful. Jonas and Mikael had whispered their vows to each other as if they were the only people in the room, unshed tears of happiness glistening in their eyes reflecting each other and proving that they really do only have eyes for the other. They promised to love and to hold and to care for each other with such a quiet but undeniable passion, and Isak couldn’t help but feel like he was intruding on a peaceful moment between the two.

Isak often felt like that—that he was intruding on the two of them. 

Isak’s been there since the start of their relationship; he was the one who had encouraged Jonas in a somewhat drunken pep-talk to go and ask Mikael for his number that first night, and, years later, he was the one who poured Jonas the single shot of liquid courage before he met up with Mikael on the date that he would propose. 

They even share an apartment together—all three of them—and if that isn’t intruding then Isak doesn’t know what is. Isak sees (and unfortunately, _hears_ ) everything, and whilst he first thought that maybe he’d finally feel a little less lonely with not only one roommate, but _two_ , he can’t help but feel like his loneliness has only been magnified. Over the years of sharing an apartment, Isak has been enlightened to everything that he’s missing out of his own life; everything he didn’t even realise he wanted in the first place.

Isak is living vicariously through Jonas’ life whilst being a mere spectator of his own—but that’s how it’s always been, Isak thinks, and he doesn’t know how to stop—if he even _wants_ to stop. Just seeing Jonas brings Isak the enormous sense of comfort that he’s always craved, and, as a result, he’s more than willing to focus on the happenings of other people’s lives, in particular his best friend’s, than his own—he prefers it, even. 

Isak loves Jonas with all of his heart, has done his whole life (in various different—oftentimes confusing—ways, but fundamentally, now, it’s a familial kind of love), but he still can’t help the feeling that he’s just not on the same playing field as his best friend—as anyone, for that matter. 

(Not including his dad, of course; Isak knows he’s better than that scumbag, even if it’s only marginally.)

Other people are not Isak’s peers, his colleagues: they’re his superiors. Whilst Isak can’t tell whether this is yet another twisted thought he’s forced into his own head rather than the reality of it, he can’t help but feel like it’s true.

The happy cheers and sniffles filling the room snap Isak from his, frankly, anxiety-inducing daydreaming, and he refocuses back into the here and now, the here and now where his best friend is currently kissing his _husband_. He finally feels his lips turn up naturally, though still minute, a fond warmth beginning to spread throughout his chest because, regardless of how lonely this whole event (and, in particular, the run up to it) has made him feel, he truly is so, so happy that Jonas gets to have this.

The fond warmth doesn’t last long, however, as Isak catches the blue (so incredibly blue—perhaps even bluer than he remembers) eyes attached to the person standing to the side of the opposite side of the altar to him. 

That’s a thing, too, that he’s been quietly dreading since the date of the wedding was first announced; because just like how Isak was without a doubt going to be Jonas’ best man, Even was unquestionably going to be Mikael’s. 

Isak is suddenly shocked back into the jarring reality of his somewhat uncomfortable situation, the painful actuality that he has to stand beside Jonas looking cool and calm whilst his ex- _something_ stands across from him doing the exact same thing.

Isak hopes to a God that he isn’t quite sure he believes in that he’s doing a better job of hiding his apprehension exteriorly than he is in his own head—Even seems to be doing just fine and he’s in an identical situation to Isak, so, really, Isak shouldn’t be stressing over everything as much as he is (story of his God damn life) right now, should he?

Even shoots Isak a small smile, a smile that is so indisputably _real_ , and that’s more than Isak can say about his own throughout the day. Nevertheless, Isak tries his hardest to send Even something akin to a smile back, because even if he’s uncomfortable, he’s not _rude_. 

Isak can feel how unnatural it must look on his face, his cheeks straining with the effort to keep the facade up, and he internally grimaces at what a terrible job he’s doing at being a human being—never mind one that’s supposed to be a best man to one of the grooms.

He watches as Even’s eyes begin to sparkle with amusement, a sight Isak has missed and will never be able to forget. He watches as Even’s smile grows bigger, bigger and unashamed, proud to be on it’s owners face, and Isak feels his whole stance soften from it’s tense hold as he watches the man in front of him.

Isak doesn’t even realise that his own smile is now a full on grin, his cheeks effortlessly pulling his lips up and eyes crinkling happily at their shared gratuitous laughter until Jonas turns around to face him, pulling him into a hug when he notices the smile on his face and whispering, “I’m so glad you’re here, man,” into Isak’s ear as they embrace each other. 

Isak tries his best to ignore the guilt swirling in the bottom of his stomach when he thinks of the fact that the only thing that could get him to properly smile at his _best friend’s wedding_ , is a man he used to know.

*****

**Then**

When Isak had first been asked to join his best friend, his best friend’s boyfriend, and his best friend’s boyfriend’s best friend (even just the _idea_ of that exhausts Isak) on a road trip around Norway the coming summer, Isak had been less than excited. 

He was more than happy to spend the down time between his last year of high school and first year of university bundled up in his apartment—preferably in his bed—watching Netflix shows on repeat and trying to drown out the sounds of the other residents living in the building (of course, excluding other residents in his own apartment, namely: Jonas. His plans very much so included having Jonas, and he guesses by extension, Mikael, next to him—or at least in the adjacent room). 

Unfortunately, however, his plans were ruined by an overprotective best friend whose repertoire seemed to include only badly concealed worried glances, anxious lip bites, and concerned eyes when it came to Isak. 

Isak had told Jonas he would think about it, but Jonas wouldn’t stop bringing it up in very unsubtle terms in what appeared to be a vague attempt to convince Isak to join them— _“Woah, dude, look at this! It’s pretty cool, huh? That’s one of the places we’re visiting this summer,”_ —and it’s starting to grate on Isak’s nerves. 

As much as it pains him to admit, Isak actually _does_ want to go on this mini road trip; it actually sounds preferable to his original plans, now that he knows he’d have to spend the break alone in the apartment as Jonas is dead set on going—plus, if Isak just caves in and tells Jonas he’ll go, maybe that will stop his best friend from whining in his ear every day about how much _fun_ it will be.

Unfortunately for Isak, he doesn’t like to make things easy for himself. 

Whilst at least half of him is set on travelling the country with his friends, the other half won’t stop it’s incessant niggling about all the things he has to do—whether that be writing an essay that’s due in at the end of the year, or more (rather) menial, everyday things like cleaning his room, or finishing an essay, or finding textbooks for his university course early (he doesn’t need to get to the start of the year only to discover they’re all sold out, okay?), or visiting his mamma. 

Isak has become more than familiar with procrastination during the weeks leading up to the trip; he doesn’t know how to make the decision—the only positive thing currently resulting from this delayed decision making is that he’s more than sure he’s going to pass all of his classes, what with schoolwork being his main tactic at putting off the picking process.

Isak doesn’t even look up from his laptop when he hears the front door slam open, a sure sign that Jonas is home—as calm and rational as his best friend is when it comes to advice about everyday life, he’s less than graceful when it comes to moving around in everyday life. 

He mumbles out a greeting that Jonas probably can’t even hear over the racket he’s making taking his shoes off (does it really require that much noise? Jonas is a grown man, he’s making everything sound so much harder than it really should be), stomach growling hungrily at the distant promise of imminent food now that Jonas is home.

“Man, you need to do stuff you _want_ to do, not just stuff you think you have to do in order to live a good life,” Jonas starts, and Isak fights back the urge to roll his eyes, sighing at the fact that they’re apparently going straight to _this_ , today. And yet—he’s heard this speech countless times before—he knows Jonas does _kind of_ make a good point; it’s just the semantics of it. “You need to do things in the here and now that make you happy. Isak, you can’t just sit in our house every day doing school work, you need to come out and live a little, man. Have some fun!”

“I do have fun.”

“ _Fun_ is not extra research for your physics paper.”

“But it’s not even assigned! I’m doing it off of my own back because I _want_ to—because it’s _fun_!”

Jonas rolls his eyes. “You’re getting extra credit for it! If it has anything to do with school, it’s not the type of fun you should be having.”

Isak ignores this, pursing his lips as he pretends to carry on reading the webpage he’s currently on—he doesn’t much feel like doing it anymore though, because, really: Jonas is right. 

Extra research isn’t fun in the slightest; it’s just much better than the alternative of sitting in an anxious state as he argues with himself about whether or not he’s going to go on the trip.

Jonas heaves a sigh when he realises he’s not going to get a reply from Isak, turning to walk out of the kitchen. Before he makes it out of the door, he turns back around and says, “Bro, I just want you to be happy,” Isak’s stomach swirls guiltily at the defeated tone of his best friends voice. “You really don’t have to come if you don’t want to. I just think it would be good for you, I think we’d have a good time—and who knows? Maybe you’ll find something there that makes you happier.”

Isak opens his mouth to interrupt, ready to declare that he _is_ happy, thank you very much, but closes it before he can get so much as a word out when he catches Jonas’ pointed look.

“I know you’re trying your hardest to be, Isak, but I think you’re forgetting that you’re my best friend. I know you’re not truly happy, and that’s okay, you don’t have to be all the time—but I just want be able to do something to help you—or you to do something to help yourself. I don’t mind what your decision ends up being, and I promise I’ll support you either way.” 

With that, Jonas nods, taps the doorframe once, and walks out of the kitchen towards his bedroom, no doubt to change into sweatpants before he rejoins Isak so they can make dinner together. 

Isak swallows hard, willing his heart out of his throat and back into his chest as he balls his hands into fists and squeezes his eyes shut.

“Jonas?” He croaks, despite his best efforts to sound sure. He peeks his eyes back open in time to watch Jonas’ head reappear around the doorframe, eyebrow raised in question. And, though something in his mind tells him that he’ll regret this, his heart finally returning to it’s rightful place in his chest tells him that he’s made the right decision when he says, “I’ll go.”

*****

**Now**

Isak can feel droplets of sweat attempting to drip down his back as he leans on the bar—the end closest to the nearest fan—waiting for his drink order. 

Luckily, Jonas and Mikael chose cotton shirts for their groomsmen to wear—so the sweat currently pooling on Isak’s back at least isn’t too visible, but he can feel his hair begin to stick on his neck and curl with a newfound vengeance after being tamed down with far too much hairspray earlier in the day (he’s starting to realise why that much was used in the first place).

Of course, Jonas and Mikael wanted to have their wedding in the summer because that means their day will only be overtaken by darkness for a mere few hours; the glistening sun will shine for all of the wedding and the majority of the reception, creating a mesmerising, shimmering glow _everywhere_ that Isak is sure the photographer in Mikael has planned since the beginning.

The actual wedding itself took place outside, on a long stretch of grass surrounded by such an incredible scenery that Isak had to stand still when he first got there, turning around on the sport as he took it all in. 

Tall, green trees stood tall and proud not far from the abundance of comfy looking seats already set up in neat rows on the grass, swaying gently, soothingly with the slight breeze that blew every once in a while. The altar—a simple white frame, covered in elegant looking white flowers—framed a breathtaking view of the fjord behind it. The sun shone bright, high and mighty in the blue sky throughout the ceremony, not once being covered by even the slightest bit of cloud—Isak imagines today has been just as perfect and even better than what Jonas and Mikael had imagined during the planning of their summer wedding. 

Isak, on the other hand, much prefers winter. 

He always has, ever since he was a child, and has always envisioned himself getting married in the winter months. The long, dark nights with clear skies that paint a breathtaking picture of shining stars for as long as Isak wants to look, the invigorating cool air that makes him feel refreshed and somewhat more energised than usual—it all seems far more preferable than the sweaty humidity of summer, bugs crawling on every surface they can reach, sweat threatening to drip from anywhere at anytime, the long days and short nights stealing his favourite view.

There’s only one summer Isak can remember fully, properly enjoying—a summer where something else replaced his favourite view of the stars. A summer that was much more bearable than usual, because he found a new favourite view—hell, a new favourite _everything_.

He’s still thinking about that, a melancholy air settling in around him, when he feels a hand touch his back gently, the body attached to it leaning round to greet him. Isak grimaces, hoping the sweaty heat of his back isn’t too disgusting, that the person currently touching him isn’t presently regretting that very decision.

The grimace is wiped straight off of his face when he too turns to see who this other person is—he’s already greeted Jonas’—and, for the first time ever, Mikael’s— _extended_ family; he thought he’d finally escaped the painful small talk he’d been subjected to—does he really have to do this again? He turns his head to see who it is, a polite smile gracing his lips and—oh.

“Even,” Isak says, squinting his eyes slightly in strange mixture of confusion and wonder, hoping the excitement in the single word wasn’t too obvious.

“Isak,” Even greets back, face lighting up with sparkling eyes and that bright smile of his that the stars themselves envy. He finally removes his hand from Isak’s back, and Isak fights the shudder at the feeling of his shirt staying in place, stuck to his skin with the dampness there. 

Once again, he silently curses the fact that Jonas and Mikael love summer so much, and then does it again at the fact that _Even’s_ here, because that is certainly not helping his clamminess. 

Isak opens his mouth to say something, but doesn’t get the chance to before the bartender comes back with his drink—he supposes that’s probably for the best, that he get interrupted, before he says something stupid like _What brings you here?_ as if they aren’t both best men at their respective best friend’s wedding. 

Isak racks his brain for something to say, _anything_ that would make him look at least slightly more intelligent than the way he’s currently staring at Even, drink raised halfway to his lips but not making it much further, mouth partially open but no words coming out.

Luckily, Even breaks the silence for him.

“I haven’t seen you for a while,” Even says, and Isak scoffs because he and Even both know why that is.

“Yeah, well, unfortunately I’ve been very busy with my _roommates_ ,” Isak says, not yet decided on whether he wanted that to be a subtle dig or a genuine answer. 

Even barks out a laugh, though—that sweet, melodic laugh that Isak hadn’t realised he’s missed—and suddenly Isak feels like he’s 18 and a little bit vulnerable and looking for a sign, for _something_ , again. He can’t quite decide which way Even took his answer, but figures, it doesn’t really matter either way—it doesn’t seem to have caused Even too much distress, after all.

Somewhat encouraged, Isak finally finds his voice and asks, “So, have you been travelling this whole time?” Even nods as he takes a sip from the glass he’s holding. “Wow, what’s that been now then? Five years?” Isak questions, as if he can’t remember the exact date he saw Even last—and though he doesn’t know the precise number of months or days or hours between then and now; he knows that it’s been five years. 

Five long years in which he hasn’t seen—or even heard from—Even.

“Well, I haven’t been travelling for five years straight. I’ve settled down a few places for a few months, stayed with some friends, some family—“

“Oh yeah, your uncle, right? He lives in Germany?” Isak interrupts. 

Even’s eyes momentarily widen in surprise, as if he hadn’t expected Isak to remember that small detail he’d learnt so long ago, and Isak feels a blush bloom on his cheeks—should he not have said that? Did that make him look weird? Isak holds his breath, unsure of what the correct thing to do next is, trying to subtlety look around for an escape plan should he need it.

Even recovers quicker than Isak does, though, and carries on the conversation as if it was a completely normal thing for someone you haven’t so much as uttered a single word to in the past five years to remember.

“Yeah, exactly. It’s really beautiful there—oh! And I also got the chance to go to Australia, it was amazing, I think you’d love it there,” Even says, eyes becoming animated with excitement as he looks directly into Isak’s.

Isak’s breath catches in his throat as he returns Even’s stare, and he can feel himself get lost in the beautiful hue of blue surrounding Even’s pupils, just like he did five years ago, and just like he imagines he always will. 

He quickly sends that thought into the back of his head, not planning to bring it back to the front until he can’t possibly resist any longer—instead choosing to focus on the bright effervescence of Even’s eyes.

“You could’ve sent a fucking postcard, at least, asshole,” Isak jokes, voice cracking slightly as he tries to push down both the longing and the jealousy he feels bubbling in his gut. 

Whilst Even was out there travelling what appears to be the whole fucking world, Isak was studying his ass off at university, not seeing much more than his bedroom, the library, and the campus coffee shop whilst third-wheeling his best friend and his best friend’s boyfriend every day of his life, and in his own home, too.

Even laughs, again, and Isak feels himself get lost in it, again. The jealousy he felt was seemingly fleeting, as Isak feels himself fill with nothing but a deep, heart-aching longing to be close to Even again. He’s not even sure he’d mind _how_ close they became, just as long as they were. 

After far too long a time than necessary, Even stops laughing, and Isak misses the sound immediately as soon as it’s gone. 

“I’ve missed you,” Even breathes, almost as if he hadn’t expected to actually say it out loud, and Isak simultaneously feels his own somewhat nervous laughter die down and his heart rate shoot up. 

He diverts his eyes momentarily, unable to keep looking into the warmth that Even exudes, the openness and kindness and honesty. His lips curl up into a smile despite himself, his face blushing in defiance of his efforts to appear unfazed. 

But when he eventually looks back up again, Even is smiling in an almost shy way, something Isak’s not sure he’s ever seen on Even before, and Isak’s heart fills with such affection that he lets himself drop his half-hearted charade.

“I’ve missed you, too,” He says, and whether it’s the alcohol finally kicking in or the quiet yearning he sees in Even’s whole face—his whole body; he feels more confident. Like perhaps, just maybe, he and Even are on the same level, like they’re equals in this. 

He wonders _why on earth_ he was dreading seeing Even again, why he wasted all that time worrying about something that he should never have been concerned with in the first place. 

He allows himself a single moment of annoyance at the fact that he could have spent the past few months thrumming with excitement rather than carrying his anxiety around with him _everywhere_ , but lets it go in his next breath because it doesn’t matter anymore.

As Isak takes a sip of his drink, he takes a single step closer to Even, allowing their arms to brush ever so slightly in silent understanding.

*****

“Even asked me to go travelling with him,” Isak hisses into Jonas’ ear when he finally manages to get him alone later that night. He can feel his hand trembling slightly where it rests on Jonas’ shoulder, because regardless of whatever Isak manages to convince himself of, the anxiety he feels about any given situation will unfailingly come back to him—especially when mixed with a few drinks.

“And?” Jonas asks, gently, because he _knows_ Isak and even though there’s no apparent immediate issue with the statement, the frenzied look in Isak’s eyes must tell Jonas that he needs to tread carefully here.

“I said yes,” Isak whispers, eyes staring unwaveringly into Jonas’, hand tightening into a fist around Jonas’ shirt. 

“Okay?” 

“Should I have done?” Isak questions, because whenever he feels like his world is tilting ever so slightly on it’s axis, Jonas always seems to be able to centre it again.

“Well, do you want to go?”

Isak doesn’t know what to say. Because he truly does want to go—he knows really, deep down, why he said yes. 

The prospect of Jonas and Mikael leaving for their honeymoon the following afternoon for two weeks has had his stomach churning for months. His blood runs a few degrees colder when he thinks about how he’s going to have to have to fly back to Oslo, in a plane full of people but still ultimately by himself, only to return to an empty home with nothing to greet him but the deafening silence of a roommate-less apartment. 

Travelling with Even, someone he’s loved and lost and has only reconciled with in the past few hours, seems like a much better, less lonely idea than going home. 

But he doesn’t want to tell Jonas that because he just _knows_ that Jonas will either threaten to cancel his honeymoon altogether, or will go, but just worry about Isak every day when he should be enjoying his time as a newly wed—and Isak just can’t do that to him. Jonas has made enough sacrifices for Isak’s sake as it is.

In the end, Isak just nods because it’s the easiest option—and, he thinks, it’s true.

“Then go! Dude, you’ll have an amazing time—remember how much fun last time was?”

Isak scowls, narrowing his eyes at Jonas. “Yeah, it was great. Remember how it ended? That was super fun.”

Jonas’ smile drops marginally, but it quickly returns and Isak berates himself for making Jonas do anything other than smile on his wedding day. Yeah, he’s been hurt before, and the ending of their last trip and the months that followed really isn’t a great memory for Isak, but it’s not Jonas’ fault and he knows that.

“I’m sorry,” Isak says softly. “You’re right. It will be fun. But…”

“No but’s, bro. You’re gonna go and you’re gonna enjoy every second of it…and who knows what will come out of it?” Jonas sends Isak a cheeky wink, and Isak can’t quite decide whether to focus his attention on preventing a blush rising on his cheeks or swatting Jonas around the head.

“I don’t even have any clothes, though. I didn’t really pack enough for a proper trip—only things for here. I can’t travel the country in a suit, Jonas,” Isak exclaims, unsure of who he’s trying to convince and why he’s even still trying to in the first place. He knows his decision has already been made—he’s going to go regardless of anything else that’s said.

“You have the top you travelled here in!”

“Gross, Jonas! I am not wearing a sweaty aeroplane top without washing it—who do you think I am?”

“Well…you’re more than happy to wear the same thing for _days_ at home,” Jonas teases, and this time, Isak lets himself hit Jonas lightly around his head. 

“Shut up, I do not.”

“You really do, Is—do you know we have a washing machine?”

“Shut up, Jonas.”

“Fine. But, bro, you can just take some of my clothes! I won’t be needing them much on the honeymoon anyway…” Jonas trails off, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

“Gross. I don’t need to know any more about that than I already do,” Isak grimaces, desperately trying not to think of why he invested in soundproof headphones and a newfound habit of knocking on any of the doors in the apartment before entering the attached room.

“Seriously, just take a few of my tops, a pair or two of shorts. I’m sure Even would let you borrow some of his stuff, you’re basically the same size.”

Isak tries not to think about sharing clothes with Even, how he _has_ noticed how similar the two of them now are in height—though Isak is a bit wider than Even, now, having gained some muscle over the past few years, while Even’s body remains lean bone and lithe muscle—how Even’s shirts probably wouldn’t be quite as long on him as they used to be.

“It’s not like you can’t afford it, either, you can use your next three months’ rent however you please, remember?”

Isak tries not to think about it, but nods anyway. 

“You guys looked like you were getting pretty close earlier, anyway,” Jonas says, and though you couldn’t tell from his tone of voice what with the mock-seriousness of it—a silent offer Isak isn’t interested in taking—Isak knows he’s teasing because he can see the playful mirth in Jonas’ eyes.

“Oh, shut up. Go make out with your husband, I’ll talk to you about this tomorrow,” Isak says exasperatedly, hitting Jonas’ arm light-heartedly as he pushes him away towards where he can see Mikael talking to his own Mamma. 

Isak watches as Jonas practically _floats_ over to Mikael, where he immediately wraps an arm around his husband’s waist as Mikael leans into him effortlessly, like it’s second nature to both of them. 

Isak longs to one day have something as good as the thing between Mikael and Jonas with someone.

He catches Even’s eyes across the room, and they simultaneously raise their respective glasses to each other and nod, before bursting into laughter at their synchronicity.

As he walks back over to join Even with a newfound confidence, he can’t help but feel like the stirring excitement he feels vibrating throughout his whole body is a sign of the start of something—and whether it’s new or recycled, Isak can’t find it within himself to care. He just lets it be.

*****

**Then**

“Are they gonna be here soon?” Isak asks, leaning back against the wall of their apartment building, bags at his feet. 

“Yeah, they’re on their way, they should be here soon,” Jonas replies, taking a few steps forward to have a better look down the road. “Aha! There they are!” He exclaims excitedly—no doubt at the fact that he’s about to see his boyfriend rather than the fact that their transport for the next few weeks is here—pointing down the road, turning his pointing hand into a wave when Mikael notices them. 

The black car—or is it a van? Isak isn’t sure; he’s never been particularly interested in driving so hasn’t ever been particularly inclined to learn the names of different vehicles—pulls up in front of Isak and Jonas, laden with a colourful plethora of bags on the top of it. Isak allows himself a moment of worry, eyeing the bags skeptically.

Mikael hops out of the car as soon as it stops, ripping his seatbelt off and all but throwing himself into Jonas’ arms as if they hadn’t just seen each other two days prior. Isak rolls his eyes, unimpressed at the display, as he steps away from his position on the wall, leaning down to pick his bags up.

“Disgusting, aren’t they?” Isak hears a voice say, and he bristles, ready to fight the blatant homophobe without another thought. He rights himself again, dropping his bags back onto the floor as he searches for the owner of the voice with a scowl on his face.

A light blush takes over Isak’s cheeks when he realises that, no, that voice did not belong to a bigot, but instead to Mikael’s best friend. 

Even stands there with an impish grin on his face, eyebrows raised at what Isak’s sure is his, admittedly, overdramatic reaction to such a comment. Isak’s shoulders drop from their tense hold, and he rolls his eyes once again as he looks at Even.

“Just a bit,” Isak says, trying to shake off the embarrassment at this having been his first interaction with Even. 

He’s heard a lot about him ever since Jonas and Mikael got together—though most of the information came out of the weeks leading up to the trip after Isak confirmed he would be joining—and he sounds like a really fun person. Not only that, but he’s also so incredibly attractive that Isak feels like he doesn’t compare even slightly—he’s so damn pretty that Isak’s in a little bit of shock; his knees a little weak, his head a little dizzy, his heart a little full.

Even laughs. Isak watches him with a smile on his face, eyes flitting all over Even, unsure of where to land because every single part of him is beautiful. His eyes are twinkling with laughter and his smile is so incredibly charming, his body tall and slim, his hair soft looking but swept back out of his eyes with a colourful bandana. 

Isak is utterly mesmerised. 

Even turns his head to the side to look at Jonas and Mikael, and Isak can’t help but notice how Even is apparently perfect from _every_ angle. With a sigh, Even looks back at Isak, and says, “Well, I guess we might as well just start putting the bags up there,” He points to the top of the car where the other bags already are. “While the two lovebirds keep doing— _that_. Truly disgusting.”

Isak snorts a truly embarrassing laugh, but can’t find it within himself to feel self-conscious about it when he sees the barely concealed fondness in Even’s eyes. Whether that’s remnant from looking at their best friends, or because of Isak’s laugh—Isak isn’t sure. He’ll take the latter option, if he can, though. 

Isak bends down to, for the umpteenth time, pick up his own bags as Even does the same for Jonas’. Isak hopes this isn’t going to become a habit throughout the rest of the trip; him and Even doing all the practical work whilst Jonas and Mikael make out or hug or whatever the hell people in relationships do. 

Following Even, Isak carries his bags over to the car before stopping and standing there, feeling rather awkward as he awaits further instructions. His breath catches in his throat, mouth dropping open dumbly with awe as Even hauls himself up on top of the car with a practised ease. 

“Can you pass the bags up?” Even asks, and Isak proceeds to stand there doing nothing, trying fruitlessly to force his body into action. “If you’re strong enough to, of course,” Even adds teasingly, quirking an eyebrow up as his lips curve into a telling smile. 

Isak huffs a laugh and shakes his head once, looking up at Even in challenge, determined to prove him wrong. 

He lifts Jonas’ bag first, swallowing a grunt down when it’s much heavier than he thought it would be, but passes it up to Even successfully nevertheless. Even nearly drops it—also seeming to have misjudged the weight of it—but Isak catches it just in time, pushing it back onto the top of the car.

“Careful,” He mocks, biting his lip cockily. 

“Okay, smartass. Pass the others up.”

Isak proceeds to do just that, the weight of each of the bags shocking him each time when he goes to lift them above his head, until there’s nothing left to do but watch Even secure them down. He must look wary, because Even looks down at him with a kind smile.

“I promise, this is much safer than it looks. They’ll be fine,” He says, pulling the band he’s using to secure them one last time before hopping back to the ground again next to Isak. 

Unconvinced, Isak decides to just let it go—trusting Even because it seems like the right thing to do. Besides, it’s not like he’s got anything of value in his bag, anyway.

His laptop is locked in their apartment, his phone is in the front pocket of his jeans and it’s charger along with his wallet are in his backpack which is slung around his shoulder. The only real thing he’d miss is the bag itself—and maybe a few of the tops he threw in there last minute (he is and always will be a last-minute packer). 

Copying Even, Isak leans his shoulder against the car, watching Even watch Jonas and Mikael for a few moments before shouting something crude followed by a demand to get in the car, because they’d like to go already. 

Even looks at Isak, pretending to be exasperated with Jonas and Mikael’s display, but Isak can see that, really, Even is just as fond of the two of them as Isak is. 

“Come on, let’s get in. I’m driving—you can sit in the front though, we’ll leave those two in the back so we can try to block out whatever gross lovey things they’re gonna talk about,” Even tilts his head towards the car. 

Isak laughs, opening the passenger side door and getting in the car as Even does the same on the driver’s side.

“Mikael said that you don’t drive,” Even starts conversationally. Isak nods, wincing as he tries not to think of the concept of driving and why he’s so terrified of doing it. It’s really a big feat—the fact that Isak is even willing to be a passenger in a car on this trip. He didn’t really think about it until after he’d already agreed, and, really, he wouldn’t be able to bare Jonas’ disappointed but understanding gaze if Isak backed out after he’d already made a decision; and a decision that made Jonas so inconceivably happy, too. “That’s chill. My uncle doesn’t drive, either—he just uses public transport all the time. He lives in Germany though, so it’s a bit different to the public transport here, I guess, but not overly so.”

Isak smiles, heart warming at Even’s reaction. Most other people who have found out that Isak doesn’t want to drive have either laughed—telling him that he’s _silly_ , or some other vaguely offensive name he doesn’t deserve—or looked at him with such confusion as if they couldn’t even fathom not being able to drive a car. 

“Do you mind if I ask why?” Even asks, and Isak feels his stomach flutter at the question. 

Even is so nice and polite about everything, not demanding answers but rather offering an ear if Isak wants to give the answers up. If anything, it makes Isak _want_ to tell Even the real reason, and not just the watered down version he usually gives people (though, then again, they usually ask _Why?!_ in such a shocked voice that it only serves to make Isak feel as though he should be ashamed).

“I’ve just had bad experiences with cars. I’m a little bit scared of them, to be honest,” Isak huffs out a somewhat self-deprecating laugh, hoping to anyone that will listen that Even isn’t going to laugh at him for being scared.

“Ah. That’s okay. Not everyone has to drive. I personally love driving, it’s freeing in a way. I can see how it can be scary, though,” Even replies, smiling warmly at Isak. 

Even’s reaction is such a genuine, kind reaction, as if it’s perfectly okay to be scared of seemingly menial things, and it makes a weight that Isak didn’t even realise was there lift off of his chest. 

He watches as Even turns back to the steering wheel, checking all the mirrors to make sure they’re in the correct position, moving his chair back slightly to accommodate his long ( _long_ ) legs—even though he’d driven here in the first place. Isak just sits back in his seat, observing Even as he carries out what seems to be slightly exaggerated safety checks, and Isak feels himself melt into his seat a bit when he realises Even is probably very much so doing this for Isak’s benefit. 

The slamming sound of the opening and closing of the back doors makes Isak jump, reminds him that he and Even are actually _not_ the only people going on this trip. 

An almost obnoxious kind of teasing and banter immediately fills the car as Even makes fun of Mikael while Mikael and Jonas jeer at Even right back. Isak finds that he doesn’t mind that this road trip isn’t going to be just the two of them after all, because instead it’s with people who are so full of fun and love and excitement; people Isak thinks, just maybe, he could be equal to. 

As the car pulls away from the curb, Isak thinks to himself that he made the right decision, all of those months ago, deciding to join them on the trip—and whether it’s his heart or brain or the blood fizzing around his body with a barely contained excitement telling him that, he believes it anyway.

*****

“So, where are we going first, again?” Isak asks the car after about an hours drive, realising that he truly has no idea where they’re even going—let alone what they’re doing—on this trip.

“Did Jonas not tell you?” Even asks, faux shock in his voice as he glances at Jonas in the rearview mirror. 

“Shit, did I not? Sorry, bro,” Jonas grimaces, though when Isak turns around to throw a pretend glare his way, he can see that it doesn’t really affect Jonas at all. Isak’s here with them, and that’s all that really matters. 

Rolling his eyes, Isak turns back to look at Even, trying to ignore how he can hear the kisses Mikael is blowing to Jonas in the back seat. Isak defies the voice in his head telling him to tell Jonas and Mikael to shut the hell up, instead looking steadfastly at Even’s profile, deciding that if he wants to get anything done on this trip his best bet is just to go straight to Even. 

“We’re going to Andalsnes first,” Even starts. “We should get there in about five more hours—we’re going to stop for food on the way though, hopefully. I’m hungry already.”

Isak laughs, knowing full well that Even can’t have eaten more than two hours ago, wondering how on Earth Even looks like _that_ when he supposedly has such a big appetite. 

“Okay,” He replies, settling back into his seat and watching their surroundings move past them gracefully, the road stretching endlessly on in front of them. 

For the next few hours, Isak carries on doing exactly this, occasionally joining in on the other boys’ conversation, teasing Jonas and Mikael and joking with Even, and he feels more at peace than he has in a long time. 

They reach a service station, eventually, and all get out to stretch their legs and get some food. Isak watches Even, a little bit endeared and, surprisingly, not even slightly disgusted at the way he wolfs down his food as if he hasn’t eaten in _months_ , let alone hours.

As they walk back to their car, Jonas and Mikael happily swinging their linked hands between them a few feet behind Even and Isak, Even stretches his arms high above his head (Isak tries not to look at the small stretch of skin that’s revealed from underneath his shirt when he does so—but who can really blame him when he can’t help but dart his eyes down and have a _quick_ look?). 

“Do either of you two want to drive the rest of the way? I’m tired,” Even asks, turning around and walking backwards a few steps as he looks at them. 

“Sure thing, man,” Mikael replies, untangling his and Jonas’ laced fingers before clapping his hands twice in demand for the keys, which Even throws to him with such a practised ease that it must be typical for the two of them to do. 

This time, when they get in the car, Isak gets in the back with Even—partly because he doesn’t want to split the two boyfriends up, but mostly because, right now, he’d quite like to carry on sitting next to Even. 

They all sit in a comfortable sort of silence for the next few hours, with only the quiet drawl of whatever music is playing and the occasional soft conversation breaking it. Isak and Even point things out to each other occasionally—the odd sheep in a field they drive by or a notably pretty view. 

It’s nice, and Isak thinks that if being in a car is always like this, he’d consider travelling in one more often—and maybe, if he was having a particularly good day, he’d even consider learning how to drive himself.

They reach Andalsnes in the late afternoon, with the sun still shining high in the clear blue sky, sparkling prettily over the fjord. The mountains surrounding the water are so incredibly beautiful, and Isak drinks the view in greedily, thanking his past self for letting go of his stubbornness and allowing him to come on this trip in the first place.

“It’s pretty, here, isn’t it?” Even says, and Isak doesn’t know if it’s just because he’s feeling especially content at the moment, but his voice is laced with a warm happiness that makes Isak feel like the Earth he’s stood on—one that has felt like it’s been tilting precariously for such a large part of his life—has finally been centred, permanently, rather than the temporary relief he sometimes gets with Jonas. 

Here, everything just seems so unwaveringly perfect.

“It really is,” Isak replies, his voice full of awe.

They stand there for a while longer, shoulders nearly touching as they take in the view, before the tranquility they had found themselves in is interrupted by Mikael saying, “Let me go get my camera, hang on.”

Isak turns around suspiciously, squinting his eyes at Jonas who only shrugs when he catches Isak’s gaze.

“Man, you’re gonna have to get used to it. You know Mikael is into photography—and Even is too, so I’m sure there will be more than enough pictures over the next few weeks,” Jonas says, smirking at what Isak is sure is the unease on his face. He quickly wipes it off, though, squinting at Jonas in warning.

“You like photography, too?” Isak questions, turning his attention back onto Even.

“Yeah. I’m a freelance photographer, so you’d hope so,” Even laughs, his smile just as good of a view as the fjord. 

“That’s cool. Did you go to uni, then?” Isak asks, intrigued to learn more about the enigma that is Even.

“I did the first year of a photography course, but I decided it wasn’t for me. It was too controlled—like you had to do everything in a certain way in order to get the best grades but it didn’t allow for freedom and creativity, y’know?”

Isak, in fact, did not know, but nods nevertheless—anything to keep the conversation going.

“You’re starting uni next year, aren’t you? You must be if you’re only two years younger than me.”

“Yeah,” Isak says, swallowing the anxiety rising in his throat when he thinks about _just_ how close he is to actually starting. “I’m gonna be studying to be a doctor.”

Seeming to sense his apprehension around the subject, Even nods, looking back towards the fjord as if thinking about his next question carefully. 

“Are you staying in student accommodation, then?”

Isak huffs a humourless laugh, appreciating the change from courses to something else; even if that something else is another source of anxiety—or rather, guilt.

“No, Jonas and I moved into an apartment together a few months ago. I had to move out of the kollektiv I was staying in because it was too crowded—I love all my old roommates but there’s no way I could’ve passed my final exams with them distracting me every five seconds,” Isak smiles, fondness and at the same time, sadness taking over when he thinks about his old roommates. “So, yeah, Jonas and I were going to get our own apartment in September anyway—why not move in slightly earlier, right?” 

At least, that’s what Isak’s been trying to convince himself of ever since Jonas first suggested the idea of their early move. Isak feels a strange mixture of guilt and happiness when he thinks about it—he’d been excited to finally move in with his best friend for a _long_ time, and it was finally happening…but it also meant Jonas moving out of his family home a few months premature, and Isak hasn’t been able to look Jonas’ mother in the eyes since the decision was made.

Isak tries to ignore the thought that Jonas took _pity_ on him, not wanting to indulge himself on that toxic internal monologue right now—he’ll save it for the nights he’s kept awake for far longer than he’d like to be.

“Wow, that’s nice. I bet your guys’ place is like, the go to party pad though, is it not?” Even teases, elbowing Isak’s side gently. 

“Our friends try to make it, but we learnt after the first—and last, might I add—party there. It wasn’t a fun experience. My shampoo got stolen.”

Even laughs again, such a sweet sound that, when paired with the jaw-dropping view, fills the air with such a serenity that Isak finds himself holding his breath, not willing to disturb the peace.

A comfortable silence settles between them again, but Isak has quickly come to realise, in the last day, that he does not want silence when he’s around Even. 

“So, what did you do after you left uni then? Just…picked up a camera and tried your luck?”

“Kind of. I have bipolar disorder and right towards the end of my first year I had a stress-related episode. It was the worst one I’ve ever had, but the thing that helped me to come out of my depression was my camera,” Even replies, looking out at the fjord for a brief moment before looking back at Isak again. “I could see it across the room, and it was covered in dust, so I got up and cleaned it off. Then I noticed it was out of charge, so I found the charger, charged it up and then looked through the photos. It made me realise everything I could do with photography—by myself and using my own imagination rather than some fifty year old professor’s syllabus.”

Isak nods in understanding, a little bit shocked about how easily Even let that information out. Isak can barely tell someone if he has a headache, he can’t imagine the courage it must have taken for Even to get this comfortable with talking about it. 

His mother, even after all these years, even after all the help she’s received, still struggles to say it out loud. By association, Isak supposes he does, too. 

He’s come to associate mental illness with such difficult things in his life that he still finds himself getting shocked at casual mentions of it, and wishes endlessly that he didn’t.

“My Mamma is schizophrenic,” Isak says after a moment’s silence, immediately wincing, squeezing his eyes shut because he doesn’t know if that was the right thing to say. The only other person he’s ever said that to—not including his father—is Jonas, who he’s known and trusted since they were five years old. 

It’s a strange feeling—telling Even about his mother after knowing him for less than a day—but freeing nonetheless. 

When Isak reopens his eyes, he does it slowly, as if trying to soften the blow of something bad happening. And when he finally does, the first thing he notices is blue. Not the blue of the fjord sparkling in the light, but the blue of Even’s eyes, glistening with kindness.

“How is she?” Even asks, not at all deterred by Isak volunteering that information.

“She’s okay, now,” Isak says softly, eyes never leaving the comfort he finds in Even’s. 

“I’m glad,” Even replies, voice just as soft as Isak’s as if he didn’t want to scare Isak away. They share a small smile, and Isak is so, _so_ grateful for Even. 

Isak coughs. “So, what did you take pictures of, then?”

“People, mostly. But anything I could find—I must have got on my parents nerves the first few weeks,” Even laughs. “I’d just take pictures of random things around the house, but I guess they were just glad to see my back on my feet.”

“And now?” 

“Now, I take pictures of beautiful things. I’ve been travelling for the past year or so, mostly around Scandinavia—but I’ve ventured over to the UK once or twice,” Even says, and Isak can see the ghosts of beautiful things in Even’s eyes as they become a little bit distant, a little unfocused, but nevertheless, happy.

Isak looks away, giving Even a little bit of privacy as he reminisces, and tries to imagine what beautiful things he’d take photographs of, if he had any talent with a camera at all. 

He tries to imagine stars, sunsets, mountains, but the only thing he can truly imagine himself taking beautiful pictures of is Even (maybe with some stars in the background—though Even would still be the main focus; how could he not be?). 

He smiles softly to himself, trying not to make it too obvious because if Even were to ask why, he’s not sure he’d be able to come up with a believable lie, and it’s too soon to drop something like _that_ on Even.

“I can’t imagine travelling,” Isak says, a little bit surprised at the sudden slip of the confession, a little bit startled at the break in the silence.

“Really?” Even asks, badly concealed shock laced in his voice, a single eyebrow raised in question—but Isak doesn’t feel judged. Even’s eyes are back in the here and now, too, when Isak looks, so he figures it wasn’t a bad thing to say.

Isak shakes his head, “No, I’ve only ever been out of the country once—and that was only to Denmark.”

“Really?” Even repeats. “I love travelling, personally. You just need to know the right places to go—don’t worry, I basically chose every location on this trip so we’ll be going to the good places, I promise,” Even smirks cockily, poking Isak’s side when Isak rolls his eyes. He looks at Isak, thinking for a minute before speaking again. “If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?”

Isak pauses for a moment, trying to think of places he’s seen and longed to visit. 

“Australia,” He finally says. 

“Australia? I haven’t been there, it looks amazing, though.”

“What about you? Where would you go?”

Without a moment of hesitation, Even says, “Chile.”

“Chile?” Isak says.

“Always Chile,” Even laughs. “It’s a long flight—though not as long as Australia. We’d have to save up a lot of money.”

Isak chooses to ignore the fact that Even said ‘we’ and not ‘I’, heart fluttering at the prospect of what the future could hold for the two of them. 

“I don’t particularly like flying either, though, so…” Isak trails off.

“I can understand not liking flying. I always have to hold someones hand—that can be a bit embarrassing when you’re flying alone though.”

Isak laughs.

“We’ll have to fly together, someday,” Even says, and Isak finds himself agreeing immediately—wait—did Even just suggest they hold hands one day? Is that what he was trying to say?

Don’t get him wrong, Isak is still completely open to that implication—if not more so than the explicit question. Even can hold his hand whenever he wants. They’ve known each other for less than a day, and yet here they are, and Isak really, _really_ can’t find it within himself to care. 

Instead of asking what Even really meant, Isak just agrees, again, telling himself that it doesn’t matter what Even really meant because he would quite happily do either—so long as it’s with Even.

Their compatible silence is interrupted rather suddenly, with Mikael and Jonas shouting, “Even!” and “Isak!” respectively and simultaneously, as if they’d been trying to get their attention for a while. 

They both turn to glance at each other, and Isak’s glad to see that Even appears to be fighting the blood rushing to his face, too—a subtle blush adorning his cheeks like a mirror to Isak’s. Isak tries desperately to not let his show—or at least act like it’s completely natural—because there’s nothing to even blush about, right? 

Jonas and Mikael are stood a short distance from them, matching smug grins on their faces and eyebrows raised tauntingly. Mikael has his hands full of a fancy looking camera, Jonas with what Isak assumes is it’s case wrapped over his shoulders and around his neck. Isak spares a thought to think that Jonas is completely and utterly whipped—it’s kind of cute, actually.

“Come on, I’ve already got some photos of Jonas, let me take some of you guys! The lighting is _perfect_ right now!” Mikael exclaims, Jonas watching on fondly from beside him.

Isak looks over to Even as Mikael raises the camera to his eyes, unsure of what to do and feeling completely uncomfortable in front of the camera. Even looks back at him, smiling with something that looks like amusement at what Isak is sure is the apparent awkwardness of his whole body. 

“Don’t look so scared, it’s only a camera,” Even laughs, placing his hand on Isak’s shoulder in a gesture that probably looks comforting but feels more teasing. “All you have to do is smile, and you’re all set.”

Isak looks down for a second, trying resolutely to fight back the blush adorning his cheeks—which is definitely not helped by the fact that his last blush is still lingering—why does Isak have to blush so much around Even?

When he looks back up, he smiles, and he and Even pose for a few more shots before walking over to Mikael and Jonas. 

Isak watches as Even takes Mikael’s camera (as Isak absentmindedly takes the case from Jonas), watches as Even proceeds to take pictures of Jonas and Mikael together (who are without a doubt being cheesy with cheek kisses and arms wrapped tight around each other), watches as Even looks back at the pictures, smiling sweetly to himself. 

“Come look at these!” Even says, arm beckoning Isak closer to him. Isak stands next to Even—arguably much closer than necessary—looking at the camera in his hands. Even flicks through the photos, stopping when he gets to the ones of themselves. 

The photos truly are breathtaking. The sunlight captures Isak and Even in an all-encompassing glow, their eyes sparkling, their smiles shining. Isak holds his breath when Even gets to the first one—one Isak hadn’t even realised Mikael had caught on camera. 

In the picture, Isak’s face is angled downwards, his eyelashes so incredibly long and a small smilie playing at his lips. Even has his hand on Isak’s shoulder, looking at him with sheer adoration. He looks beautiful, magical, _ethereal_.

“Wow,” Isak croaks, utterly in awe of all the pictures. “They’re amazing.”

“Of course they are—my boyfriend took them. He’s a genius!” Jonas remarks, making Isak jump because he hadn’t realised Jonas and Mikael were even with them. 

Isak looks up at his best friend, who looks at him knowingly before flickering his eyes to Even for a split second. Isak feels himself blush ( _again?_ ), smiling sheepishly whilst simultaneously sending Jonas a warning look with his eyes.

“Come on, let’s go find where we’re staying,” Mikael claps, starting back towards the car. Jonas follows suit, but Even stays behind for a second, reaching for the bag Isak’s holding. Isak watches as Even crouches and carefully places the camera back into the case, treating it so delicately that Isak can only imagine that that would be how Even holds a child—he’ll stop there, though—at least for the time being.

“Right,” Even says, standing back up and smiling at Isak. “Let’s go.”

When they get to the car, they find Jonas and Mikael arguing over the map. They share an exasperated look over the boyfriends’, rolling their eyes.

“Okay, okay. What’s happened?”

“Jonas can’t read a fucking map is what happened,” Mikael says, and it sounds harsh but Isak can see the teasing in his eyes.

“Yes I—“

“Dude, you absolutely cannot read a map,” Isak interrupts. “Remember when we did that forest to fjord walk?” 

“You promised to never speak about that again!” Jonas pouts, but lets go of the map nevertheless, clearly not wanting to tempt fate and make Isak tell the story.

“Just go help Even put the camera back with the other bags and I’ll help Mikael.”

“We don’t even need to use a map,” Even says, as if they’re all stupid for thinking otherwise.

“Shut up, Ev. We need to use the map, go put the fucking camera away,” Mikael quips back, pointing at their car.

Isak watches amusedly as Even leaves to do just that, both hands raised in surrender with Jonas following, stomping his first few steps dramatically before he gives up. He watches as Even turns around and laughs, his hair threatening to fall into his face but being stopped by his bandana before it can get much farther than his forehead. 

Isak thinks this moment right here would make a good picture, but he doesn’t say anything.

Between the two of them, Isak and Mikael find the place they’re staying at on the map quite easily. 

“It’s less than a half hour’s drive away,” Isak concludes, passing the map back to Mikael who can use it to direct Jonas, who’s going to be driving. 

“Hey, Isak?” Mikael says. 

“Yeah?”

“Will you tell me the story about Jonas on the forest to fjord walk?” He questions, and Isak huffs out a laugh. He’d fully expected Mikael’s question to be serious, but he’s more than glad that it turned out to only be _that_. “Please?”

“Maybe later, Mik,” Isak laughs, knowing that he won’t tell Mikael the story unless Jonas tells him he can. As much as he likes to tease Jonas, he wouldn’t betray his trust like that.

Sure enough, they get to the place a short while later.

When they first get there, they get directed to a huddle of small cabins surrounded by trees, with a fire pit in the middle of all of them. The person at the reception gave them two keys for two cabins—one which Jonas and Mikael would share, and one which Isak and Even would share—Isak kind of hopes they’re opposite each other, purely because he wants to minimise the chances of hearing something he _really_ doesn’t need to hear as much as possible.

“Let’s go get settled in and then meet at the fire pit in a bit? We’ll have a barbecue or something later,” Jonas says, pulling Mikael away with him before Isak and Even can even answer.

“They sure are eager, aren’t they?” Even says, beginning the walk over to their cabin—fortunately, Isak’s wish was granted and it isn’t right next to Jonas and Mikael’s.

“It’s disgusting, really,” Isak replies, letting out a laugh as Even does the same, thinking back to their first meeting this morning. It’s been less than a day but it feels like they already know each other so well—it’s kind of weird, but good regardless.

Even uses the key to unlock their cabin, the both of them dragging their bags after them. Isak can tell that Even chose where they were going to stay, because the cabin, like everything else that they’ve seen so far, is beautiful. 

It consists of only three rooms; an open plan kitchen and living room, a bathroom, and a bedroom. They go to the bedroom first, both keen to put their bags down, but Isak stops short in the doorway as he follows Even into the room.

“I guess we’re gonna have to share,” Even says, pointing to the double bed in the centre of the far wall, flanked by matching side tables with matching lamps. It all looks very domestic, very couple-y, but Isak isn’t sure that he minds. Even dumps his bags on one side of the bed, turning around when Isak doesn’t say anything. “Is that okay?” He asks, and maybe it’s time to actually do _something_ , react somehow, Isak thinks.

“No—yeah, yeah that’s fine! It’s fine,” Isak says, coughing and scratching his nose. “It saves one of us from having to sleep on that sofa, the bed looks far more comfortable…yeah, yeah it’s fine.”

Even laughs, “As you’re so sure.” Isak’s almost positive that Even is teasing him, and when he looks back up to meet Even’s eyes, his suspicions are confirmed as they’re sparkling with mirth. They both laugh, pushing the awkwardness out of the room and filling it with happiness instead. 

“I’m sure.”

“Good. Now, shall we go meet the other two?”

*****

They all sit around the fire, eating as they watch the sun set before being immersed into a darkness broken only by the crackling flames in front of them. They’re far away from the light pollution of the city, and Isak’s thankful, because where they’re sat gives them a perfect, clear view of the stars twinkling in the sky.

He looks up, watching them and trying to figure out which constellation is which while the others talk around him. Sometimes, Isak likes to point out the different constellations, naming them and teaching anyone who will listen about how they came to be. 

Tonight, though, Isak just enjoys the silence, and the others allow Isak to just sit there quietly, admiring the stars and not doing much else. 

Eventually, he’s broken out of it by Jonas and Mikael declaring they’re going to bed, and he looks down briefly to say, “Good night, boys,” before going back to his favourite view.

He and Even sit in a companionable silence, Even following Isak’s lead and just sitting there, breathing in the cool night air and feeling at peace.

“You like the stars, then?” Even says softly after a short while, not seeming to be in any rush to end the comfortable silence. 

Isak nods. “I love the stars.”

“Why do you like the stars, Isak?” Even asks, and the way he says Isak’s name makes Isak feel special. Isak imagines that that’s what he sounds like when he talks about the stars, when he points them out and gives them their proper names and draws the shapes of them in the sky for anyone who wants to see. It sounds like Even cherishes the name on his tongue, admires it and thinks it’s important. It’s a good feeling, to hear your name spoken as if you’re significant, as if you’re valued.

“They’re a constant, y’know?” Isak whispers, deciding he feels relaxed enough to indulge Even in the real reason—not the reason he typically gives which is usually something along the lines of _space is super cool_. “Not much else in my life has been a constant. My mamma became ill when I was around six or seven, my pappa left when I was thirteen, I moved out of my home when I was fifteen. Did you know I used to live in a basement?”

“A basement?” Even asks, and the confusion is evident in his voice.

“A basement,” Isak nods. “I’m gay, my mamma is very religious—and her delusions used to focus on religion. It wasn’t a safe environment for me, and I dealt with that by getting very drunk and going home with a stranger who knew my name. He let me stay in their basement until one of his roommates moved out, and then I moved up into the actual kollektiv. Me and Mamma are on good terms, now, though.”

“Wow,” Even says, and Isak can feel his eyes burning into the side of his face. He doesn’t look back, though, just carries on studying the stars, scared he’d lose his courage if he caught Even’s eyes right now.

“Yeah, anyway. Throughout it all, I remember if I was feeling sad, or lonely, or afraid, or if I couldn’t sleep, I would just look up at the sky and feel less alone. Because the stars are always there. Even if you can’t see them, you know they’re still up there, y’know?”

At this, Isak finally looks back down, meeting Even’s gaze. There’s something intense about it, but Isak still finds himself feeling safe.

“You’re an incredible person, Isak,” Even says, and it truly looks like he means it. 

Isak lets himself smile a small smile, helpless to his lips turning up on their own, his eyes never leaving Even’s. He bumps their shoulders together in thanks, before leaning them more surely together as they look back up at the stars.

A while later, when the fire is starting to burn out, Even sighs, looking down and rubbing his neck.

“The stars sure are pretty, but sitting like this is killing my neck,” Even says. Isak is more than aware of the niggling pain in his own neck, but chooses to ignore it because he’s more than willing to put up with it if it means he gets to experience both the stars and Even at the same time.

“It’s pretty late,” Isak says, taking pity on Even. “Shall we go to bed?” 

They go to bed, Even falling asleep almost immediately, but Isak staying up for longer than he wants to. 

It’s usually on a night when he struggles to force his anxious and guilty thoughts to the back of his head, when he’s tired and can’t keep the walls up as well as he can when he’s awake. His insomnia has always been bad, more so when he’s stressed, but he’d hoped even just one day of travelling would’ve tired him out enough to fall asleep quickly.

Isak lies in the bed, staring at the ceiling and listening to Even’s deep, calming breathing next to him. Every time Even moves, Isak tenses, worried for an inconceivable reason that he’s woken Even up despite making no noise and not changing his position at all. 

He just lies there, gradually feeling his eyelids get heavier, but sleep still seems to be evading him. He closes them anyway, not willing to put the effort into keeping them open, hoping he can trick his body into sleeping.

He’s so very nearly asleep when all of a sudden he feels an arm snake around his waist, a body suddenly snug against his side. It jerks him awake again, but this time he’s tense rather than relaxed. Should he wake Even up? Just push him away a bit? Let Even cuddle him? But what if Even didn’t want them to cuddle?

“You think too much,” Even mumbles, not even opening his eyes. “Everything is okay.”

Isak lets out a deep breath, relaxing again, but this time into Even’s arms. As he falls asleep—much quicker than any recent time he can remember—he thinks that Even’s right. 

Right now, everything is okay.

*****

**Now**

Isak quickly comes to realise that Even has barely changed in the last five years.

Sure—he looks older now, more mature with a hint of stubble and an even sharper jawline, and his _eyes_ are so impossibly blue—but for the most part, Even is almost exactly like Isak remembers him.

It’s exhilarating and exasperating at the same time.

Isak remembers Even’s motto when travelling has always very much so been ‘we don’t need to use maps’ and rather ‘the wind will blow me where I’m supposed to be’; and, though Isak believes this method would not let them down so long as Even was there, the very _thought_ of it stresses him out to no end.

Isak likes plans, he likes rules, he likes following things and sticking with patterns and minimising the chance of failure (or, in this case, getting lost) as much as he possibly can. But, with Even, he struggles to do that. The only real constant in his experience travelling with Even is—well, Even himself.

Isak’s not sure he minds that too much.

The car they’re currently sat in, whilst smaller than the one they used five years ago, is so strikingly similar that Isak doesn’t know whether he feels nostalgic or uncomfortable. The outside is painted a matte black, the roof is (in Isak’s opinion) precariously balancing two suitcases on the top, which rattle around as if taunting their fall at every bump and slight turn in the road, and Isak is sat in the passenger seat whilst Even is sat in the driver’s seat. 

When Isak turns to look at Even, watching the sunlight dance over his face and sparkle wherever it touches, he decides it’s nostalgia—what he’s feeling. 

He’s nostalgic because he can’t deny that the memory of the road trip so many years ago is undoubtedly one of the best times of Isak’s life. It gave him the exact break he needed, allowed him to at least _start_ putting his anxieties into perspective. 

What happened _after_ their trip was over is the only thing tainting the memory—and Isak just can’t seem to find it within himself to ignore the utter heartbreak he felt for weeks—months—after everything happened. 

He had been—a little bit embarrassingly, in Isak’s opinion—devastated.

He had been so sure that the wedding would have been a disaster—not for Jonas and Mikael; that would go perfectly because it was _Jonas and Mikael_ —but for him. Seeing Even again after such a long time, after the sadness that’s laced with the last memory he has of the two of them together; he was sure something was going to go wrong.

Whether that something would be Even completely ignoring everything that has happened between them in the past, or Isak bursting into tears after a few too many drinks and a few too many sightings of Even, he didn’t know.

Luckily, after their initial conversation, they drank together—a _lot_. They reminisced the good times, and brushed over the bad, not wanting to taint yet another memory. They talked for a long time, became comfortable and friendly with each other again so quickly that you’d think they were more than just friends who hadn’t had any contact with each other in the past five years.

Even asked Isak to travel Norway with him again, and whether it was a spontaneous idea or something Even had already planned on doing but just decided last minute to invite Isak along for the ride, Isak doesn’t care.

The only thing that matters now is that he’s here, with Even, driving through beautiful landscapes and pointing out pretty things they see on their way.

Even refuses to tell him where they were going, this time—Isak thinks it’s because he didn’t really have any true plans when he proposed the trip in the first place—but Isak recognises the familiar roads as soon as they reach them. 

“Kjeragbolten? Is that where we’re going?”

Even laughs, shrugging as if to say _Who knows?_ , despite the road sign they’re coming up to clearing declaring this to be the way to Kjeragbolten.

Isak laughs, too, as soon as he notices, leaning back into his seat more comfortably and admiring the view as they drive.

When they eventually park, they hike—much to Isak’s chagrin, as he absolutely is _not_ wearing proper hiking shoes given that he only expected to be attending a wedding this weekend—to the boulder, Even carrying his camera in a bag whilst Isak carries their water.

The view when they reach the boulder is just as amazing as it was five years ago. Isak is _so_ glad that everything between him and Even turned out to be (better than) okay, because if it hadn’t, he’s not sure he’d have ever had the opportunity to come here again.

Even takes his camera out—a camera bigger and better than the one he used to use—pointing Isak over to the boulder and telling him to pose. 

Isak doesn’t bother complaining—barely allows himself a second to even consider rejecting the notion; he knows Even won’t take no for an answer. 

Regardless, Isak allows himself a few moments to stand at the edge, a step away from actually standing on the boulder, shaking out his hands by his sides, trying to dispel his nerves with a few deep breathes. 

Isak isn’t necessarily scared of heights, but he _is_ scared of dying, and standing on this rather small (at least in comparison to most areas Isak is willing to stand on over a thousand metres above the ground) wedged between two rocks—even after having done it successfully before—is a little bit terrifying. 

Nevertheless, as he takes one last deep breath, he lifts his feet and steps onto the boulder. 

Standing up here is exhilarating—breathtaking and nerve-racking in the _best_ way; there’s such an undeniable sense of freedom mixed with adrenaline rushing through his body as he stands this high above the ground—it’s almost intoxicating. 

Isak hasn’t felt this kind of invigorating excitement since the last time he stood up here, five years ago. And, as he finds Even standing on the cliff opposite him, his camera positioned and a beautiful smile on his face as he watches Isak pose with his arms held high and proud above his head through the lens, Isak wonders if the source of the utter happiness he feels in every atom in his body is down to _where_ he’s currently standing, or _who_ he’s currently with. 

Isak stands on the boulder for a few more minutes, posing ridiculously when Even tells him to and smiling brightly the whole time. He watches Even look back at the photos he takes as soon as he’s taken them, and it’s obvious that he’s more than happy with them. 

Isak remembers Even and Mikael both taking so many pictures on their last trip, taking up a large amount of time of their holiday—what with them both loving photography and just _having_ to get the perfect angle or lighting or something else that didn’t matter to Isak. 

When they got back from that holiday, Mikael had had all of the photos printed professionally, and organised them meticulously by date in an album that he and Jonas went out specifically to buy. 

Isak has watched Jonas flick through the album a countless number of times, his eyes happily watching their journey develop. He knows that Jonas’ eyes rarely stray from Mikael—watching himself and his boyfriend fall into an even deeper love (if that was even possible)—but, sometimes, he would see Jonas’ eyes stray, watching with a somewhat melancholy air as Isak’s smiles turn from something tired and small, hesitant, gradually into something happier, something freer—something more like the bright smile adorning Even’s face in every picture he’s in.

Isak rarely looks at the photo album—tries to not so much as look in the direction of the cupboard in which it’s stored. He only really looks at it if Jonas or Mikael point something out to him, asking him, _“Hey, Isak, do you remember this?”_ as if every part of that trip hasn’t been engraved into Isak’s brain, there for him to look back on at any given time. 

Perhaps it’s just Isak being too hopeful, too willing to find something—some _one_ —to make his life just marginally more enjoyable than it currently is, but, as he finally reaches Even, listening to him talk animatedly about how brilliant the pictures he’s just taken are, Isak finds himself thinking that, when he returns to Oslo, maybe he’ll be able to take these pictures back with him. Maybe he’ll be able to go out and buy a photo album that he can fill with memories that aren’t tainted, memories that make him happy rather than sad.

As Even looks up and catches Isak’s eyes, both of them reflecting a shimmering happiness back at each other, Isak thinks that maybe he can. 

Who knows—maybe he won’t be alone this time, either.

*****

**Then**

The following days follow much of the same pattern. 

They travel through beautiful areas—Isak had expected as much, knowing Even picked all of them, but he’s still a little bit in awe of everything they see.

Every now and then, Jonas, Mikael and Even would swap who was driving, Jonas and Mikael and Even and Isak moving in pairs between the front and back seats, never separating. They would stop for food, or just at a pretty place so they could take pictures. 

Isak became something akin to Even’s muse—he would constantly have his camera pointing at Isak, who would always grumble, but he didn’t really mind, and would soon pose for the photo without argument, knowing that he’d like to look back on this one day. 

He and Even grow closer and closer, talking all the time about everything and nothing—their lives, their ambitions, their random thoughts when they pass something that’s seemingly inconspicuous. When they’re silent, it’s a comfortable silence, and they often find themselves gravitating towards each other.

Neither of them even attempt to stop it, though.

Every night, Isak would have trouble sleeping, but it seems to be getting easier with Even beside him. 

Tonight, they’re camping in a little area on the side of a mountain, and this place is just as beautiful as everywhere else they’ve been (it was picked by Even, of course).

He and Even are sharing a tent, cleverly set up opposite to Jonas and Mikael’s shared tent, but tonight, Isak feels more restless than usual. Even’s asleep next to him—he can tell because of the familiar heavy breathing next to his ear and the reassuring heaviness of Even’s arm over his stomach— but all Isak wants to do is get out of this tent.

He carefully slides himself out from underneath Even’s arm, lifting it and placing it back down gently, carefully ruffling through Even’s bag for a second in search for the car keys, before unzipping the tent and walking back towards their car. 

He opens the boot of the car, which is parked a little way away from their tents, the boot facing an incredible view; mountains and trees and, if you stretch, you can just about see a fjord hidden within the mountains.

Isak grabs a blanket from the backseat of the car, wrapping it around his shoulders. It smells like Even, because Even had used it earlier in the day when he’d had a nap while they were driving to the next location.

(Despite the warm weather, Even needed a blanket to sleep—otherwise it wouldn’t happen—so Isak had dragged it out of the boot earlier that week and made sure to have it in the back, just in case.)

Isak sits for a while, staring unseeingly out at the view, thinking about everything that’s bothering him though he tries valiantly not to. 

His mamma’s nurse had called the other day—she was completely fine; had just fallen whilst working on her garden, but her knee had swollen up so badly that her nurse decided to take her to the hospital. She had just bruised it badly, and Isak had only been called as a courtesy, but he couldn’t help but worry about her nonetheless.

A warm hand on his shoulder is what eventually startles him out of his wandering thoughts, but he’s so tired in that moment that he can barely react.

“You okay?” Even asks gently, eyes sleepy and hair soft, concern pulling at his lips. 

“I’m okay,” Isak whispers, but it sounds like a lie even to his own ears.

In spite of the obvious dishonesty, Even just nods, sitting down next to Isak, their shoulders brushing. Isak unwraps the blanket from around himself, offering some of it to Even, who takes it gratefully, it’s weight comforting as they sit there.

“Do you remember,” Even starts after a while, his voice quiet and timid. “When I told you I had a bad episode at the end of my first year of uni?”

“Yeah?” Isak whispers, looking up at Even’s face intently. 

Even takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly before he speaks again. “I tried to kill myself,” He says.

Isak feels his heart stop pumping, feels the oxygen in his lungs freeze at the words before all of a sudden everything starts again at a much quicker rate than before.

“What?” Isak whispers, and it sounds broken.

Even meets his eyes. 

“I tried to kill myself,” He repeats. Isak swallows.

Even holds out his wrist, pointing out the faint scar running up it. It’s thin and faded—unnoticeable unless you were looking for it—but there nonetheless. Isak feels his eyes burning with unshed tears—he only met Even a week or so ago, but he can’t imagine living his life not having done so. 

Even is such a kindhearted, wonderful person—an enigma, but in all the best ways. He’s so incredible, and brings—or at least tries to bring—light and happiness wherever he goes, wherever he can. 

Isak’s life has been far from easy, full of pain and sadness and confusion—things that have never left him, plaguing his sleepless nights—but he’s never once thought of bringing an end to it. He can’t imagine the amount of pain Even must have been in, wishes that Even—no, _nobody_ —ever has to feel that type of pain again. 

Isak reaches out his arm, hand trembling as he traces the scar softly, and wonders if it’s easier to have scars that are visible.

“I’m okay, though, Isak,” Even says, voice still quiet, but firm. “There’s a whole story behind it, and I promise I’ll tell you it one day. I’ve told you this much because I just wanted to make sure you knew that things will get better.”

Isak blinks, feels a tear roll down his cheek as his lower lip trembles, before looking up into Even’s eyes. They’re so clear, so focused, so _sure_ , and Isak lets go of Even’s wrist gently before falling into his chest less than gracefully. 

Even immediately wraps his arms around Isak’s back, pulling him closer to his chest. “I don’t know what’s bothering you right now Isak, but I promise it will all be okay,” He whispers into Isak’s hair as Isak cries softly into his chest. He feels Even run a soothing hand through his curls, the other running up and down his back in reassuring circles, and he feels safe. 

They sit like that for a long time, neither of them speaking, just swaying in each others arms and offering silent promises that only the two of them can hear. 

Even presses a kiss into Isak’s hair—he’s sure of it—before pulling away slightly, looking into Isak’s eyes again. 

“Want to talk about it?” Even offers, voice louder than before but still quiet. His eyes are kind.

Isak turns his head, resting it sideways on Even’s chest as he looks back out to the mountains. He can see the start of the day’s sunrise, now, and wonders what time it actually is.

“I’m just worried about Mamma, I guess. She’s been doing really well lately but just before I left I went to visit her. She didn’t recognise me, thought I was a footballer on TV or something,” Isak whispers, voicing his worries for the first time in a long time.

“Which footballer?” Even asks.

“What?” Isak replies, surprised that _that’s_ what Even chose to focus on.

“Which footballer did she think you were?”

“That French one—Griezmann?”

“Oh! You do look like him! I thought I recognised you when I first saw you—that must be why,” Even teases, a carefully mirthful smile on his face.

“Shut up!” Isak says, pushing Even gently before pulling him back just as close as they were before. Isak is so eternally grateful that Even is here right now, it almost feels like a dream. Even’s joking could very much so be too soon, too much for Isak; but it’s not. 

It’s exactly what he needed. A normal, joking conversation that takes him away from his anxious thoughts and allows him to look at the situation from a different point of view.

They breathe together, both of their eyes closed, peaceful in each others arms for a little while longer.

“Thanks, Even,” Isak says, leaning back to look into Even’s eyes. “Really. I’m glad we met.”

“I’m glad we met, too.” Even smiles, and Isak feels something hopeful stir in his gut. 

“Shall we go back to our tent? Try to get a few hours before Jonas and Mikael wake up?” 

“That sounds good. Let’s go,” Isak agrees, but doesn’t move even a little bit from his position in Even’s arms. Even laughs, startling a shriek out of Isak when he moves to lift him up. 

“I can walk!”

“Can you? Are you sure? Because that certainly wasn’t walking, just then.” 

Isak slaps Even’s chest in faux outrage, before squirming out of his arms and walking away. He stumbles his first few steps, disorientated from having been snuggled into Even’s warm body for so long, giving Even the finger when he hears him laughing.

Together, they walk back to their tent, and if on the way there, Even takes Isak’s hand and doesn’t let go of it until they wake up later that morning, no one’s there to notice.

*****

**Now**

“Where are we staying tonight?” Isak asks a few hours later when they’re back in the car, travelling to God-knows-where. 

“I found a little campsite last night. I have all the stuff I’ve been travelling with, too, so we can sleep in my tent. It will probably be quite cozy, though.”

“Because cozy is exactly what I want when it’s thirty plus degrees in the middle of summer. We’ll get sick if we’re not careful,” Isak teases, but doesn’t say anything else on the matter. He doesn’t mind sharing the space with Even at all.

“Oh! I completely forgot to ask you how your studying’s going. Still gonna be a big shot doctor?” Even asks conversationally, but the interest is clear in his voice.

Isak nods. “Yeah, I’m still studying. Last year this year though. It’s been a real pain—imagine having to study for a degree with both Jonas _and_ Mikael in your space 24/7. It’s almost worse when it’s just one of them, because all they do is whine about missing the other.”

“Oh yeah,” Even says, but a strange type of sadness fills his voice. “How’s that going? All of you living together?”

Isak swallows, regretting having brought their living situation up with Even. All it does is raise bad memories and unanswered questions about what could have been.

“It’s good. They love each other a lot, it’s quite disgusting really,” Isak tries to joke, hoping Even will recognise it from a conversation from another time. He does, Isak can tell because Even’s mouth quirks a little, but that’s all the reaction he gets.

“You guys have been living together for a while now, hm?”

“Yeah, five years.”

“Hmm.”

“They’re moving out soon, though. After they get back from their honeymoon.”

“Oh? Are you moving out too?” 

Isak laughs humourlessly. “No, not yet at least. I’m staying in the apartment. They both paid the next three month’s worth of rent for me because they felt bad for leaving me alone—especially when I don’t have anywhere else to go yet. I’m sure I’ll find somewhere though, I’ll probably just get a smaller apartment close to Eskild or something,” Isak shrugs. 

He’s been silently worrying about that ever since Jonas and Mikael told him they were moving out.

He had watched the apartment slowly get emptier—the majority of things came from Jonas and Mikael’s rooms, though, so it was almost unnoticeable unless you have a really keen eye, or, I don’t know, _live there too_.

He’s been trying to avoid leaving his own room, to be honest, not wanting to see the evidence of his roommates leaving. He could tell it had been starting to worry Jonas, though, if his constant nagging was anything to go by.

(“Dude, please, for the love of God,” Jonas had said from the doorway of Isak’s bedroom. “Leave your room, come and watch a movie with us or something. I’m moving out in like, two weeks—you should be wanting to spend as much time with me as you possibly can until I’m a taken man.”

“You’re already a taken man,” Isak had mumbled into his pillow, not wanting to even glance at Jonas because he knew that it would send him down a spiralling path of constant and hardly hidden panic and worry at the prospect of having to spend the next few months in the apartment alone. He hasn’t lived alone since he was 16 and scared, having moved into Eskild’s basement with no other options that he felt comfortable with—that is, of course, if you could even call that period of his life _living_.)

He had left his room anyway, because he knew it would make Jonas happy. (It did.)

“You could always find a new roommate,” Even says, and Isak barks out a laugh. He supposes he could, but where he would find someone, he doesn’t know. “I’m sure anyone would jump at the opportunity to live with you.”

“Ha—not everyone though, right?” Isak jaunts, and immediately regrets it, because it doesn’t sound mocking at all, it just sounds sad.

“Isak—“ Even starts, but Isak doesn’t let him finish. He’d prefer to just move on from this conversation and forget it ever happened at all.

“Don’t worry about it. Let’s talk about something else?”

Even pauses for a moment, seeming uncertain of whether to agree or not. Eventually, he simply says, “Okay.”

“So, you said we were staying in a campsite then?” Isak starts, trying to make his voice sound as normal as possible. 

Even immediately goes off on a tangent about their plans, and Isak shakes off the uneasy feeling as they drive the winding roads, listening to the comforting (it will never be anything else) sound of Even’s voice.

*****

**Then**

When Isak and Even emerge from their tent that morning, Jonas and Mikael are already up, cooking bacon on a camp stove. They’re sat close together, and the only questioning glance they give Isak and Even is from Jonas, and it’s at Isak’s still slightly red eyes—because he can always tell when something is wrong—rather than their laced hands.

Isak and Even sit down next to each other, shoulders touching like they usually do, hands still linked but in Even’s lap now. 

They talk quietly about nothing while the bacon cooks, all four of them, discussing their plans for the day when they arrive in Stavanger as they eat their breakfast.

Isak falls asleep in the car after less than fifteen minutes of driving, head resting against Even’s shoulder.

He wakes up again to Jonas saying, “We’re here!” a few hours later, his head feeling heavy. It’s not for a few minutes that he realises the heaviness is not, in fact, his tired grogginess, but rather another head on top of his. 

He opens his eyes slowly, first seeing Jonas and Mikael sat in the front seat but turned around looking at the two of them. 

“We’ll meet you two outside, bro,” Jonas says, before he and Mikael exit the car.

“Even?” Isak says eventually, jostling his head a bit in an effort to wake Even up. It works almost immediately, and Even lifts his head off of Isak’s unhurriedly, clearly still grappling with the depths of sleep.

“We’re in Stavanger,” Isak says, grabbing onto Even’s hand again. He looks at Even fondly, watching as he wakes up properly. Isak can’t help but lean forward and place a small, chaste kiss on Even’s cheek, and the blush that fills Even’s face makes it more than worth it.

“Feels like I’m still dreaming,” Even whispers, tilting his head to look at Isak with sleep soft eyes.

“I can assure you you’re not,” Isak responds, smiling sweetly.

They eventually make it out of the car—Isak getting out on Even’s side so they don’t have to stop holding hands—and join Mikael and Jonas where they’re stood near the side of the cliff, admiring the view.

As they walk up, Isak can hear Mikael saying, “I want to get married here, one day,” to which Jonas responds with a less than appropriate kiss to his lips, and Isak doesn’t know whether to be disgusted or captivated by their love.

They spend the next few days exploring Stavanger, and it’s every bit as exhilarating as Isak could have imagined—even more so with Even by his side at all times. 

On their last day before they return to Oslo, they hike up the mountains towards a cliff that overhangs the edge of a fjord that Even claims will make a great picture. They have to take periodic breaks, though, partly because they’re unfit, but mainly because they have to trudge the added weight of the camera equipment up with them.

The view is breathtaking when they reach the spot, and Isak thinks the sore legs he has tomorrow will be completely worth this view alone—let alone the pictures they take so he can look back on it too.

The way back down is without a doubt easier than the way up, but they still find themselves taking breaks. Isak thinks it’s because none of them really want this trip to be over, but when they get to the bottom of the mountain again, it will have officially ended.

Isak and Even sit close to each other on a rock whilst Jonas and Mikael sit on the ground a few feet away from them, Isak’s head resting on Even’s shoulder, Jonas’ resting on Mikael’s.

“What are you doing after this? Going back to Oslo?” Isak asks, trying not to get his hopes up just yet.

“I don’t think so,” Even replies, and Isak’s heart immediately plummets. “I’m going to carry on travelling. There’s so much left for me to see.”

“Oh,” Isak says, swallowing. “When will you come back to Oslo, then?”

“I don’t think I will,” Even says, and Isak sits up properly, no longer wanting to rest on Even like this. 

“Why not?” Isak asks quietly, trying to mask his disappointment. 

“There’s nothing left for me in Oslo, Isak,” Even says, as if it’s obvious. Isak swallows down the _What about me?_ because he doesn’t want to know what Even’s reaction would be if he actually said that.

“So you’re not even going to visit?” Isak asks, looking down and swallowing repeatedly, determined to not let this get to him until he’s alone.

“My family live in Tromsø, so probably not for a while, at least, no.”

“Oh,” Isak says, beginning to stand up, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “We better get going,” He says, loud enough for Jonas and Mikael to hear, too, not giving any of them a second glance as he begins walking down the mountain.

For the first time since the start of their trip, Isak walks without Even, and it’s a truly terrible feeling.

He can hear the familiar footsteps of Jonas run up behind him, then, and he braces himself for the questions he’s no doubt going to receive, but quickly realises there’s no need.

“Dude!” Jonas says, eventually catching up to him. “Guess what! Remember a few weeks ago I asked you if I could ask Mikael to move in with us?”

Isak nods distantly, wondering how much farther his heart can droop until it’s no longer inside him. 

“I just asked him, and he said yes! Isn’t that great?” Jonas laughs as if he can’t believe it’s true.

Isak attempts to echo Jonas’ pleased laugh, but fails miserably when his voice wobbles as he says, “Yeah, dude, that’s awesome.”

“Isak?” Jonas says then, seeming to finally get a good look at his best friend. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

Isak shakes his head, swiping his face angrily as he feels a tear start to fall, biting the inside of his cheek in irritation. 

“Nothing happened. That’s the point. Nothing,” Isak says, and it makes sense to him, but it must not to Jonas.

“What do you mean nothing happened?”

“I thought something was happening, but it clearly wasn’t, so let’s just stop talking about it and talk about when Mikael’s moving in, yeah?” He says, his tone harsh despite him not meaning it to be. He doesn’t want to be harsh with Jonas—it’s not his fault Isak has been a desperate idiot for over a week straight—so he immediately mutters an apology, meeting Jonas’ eyes to show him he means it.

He catches Jonas looking furiously over his shoulder at the two boys behind them, and that’s when Isak knows that Jonas understood.

“That’s alright, Is,” Jonas says, swinging his arm around Isak’s shoulder. “Let’s go. As soon as we get home, we can scratch his face out of every picture he’s in, yeah?”

Isak knows it’s an empty promise—Mikael would never let them do such a thing to a photograph—but he appreciates it nonetheless. 

Regardless, Isak sniffs, nodding determinedly. 

“We’ll scratch his face out of every photo he’s in.”

*****

**Now**

They sit around a campfire that night, their tent a few metres behind them, on the same log side by side. Their shoulders brush against each other with every breath. 

The comfortable air between them is back, but Isak can’t seem to forget their conversation from earlier. 

They chat for a while, eating a dinner that Even cooked them over the fire, before settling into a relaxed silence.

This time, they lay down, heads resting on the log as they look up at the stars above them. They’d figured this was an easier, much less painful and much more pleasant way of admiring the stars—of course, with the added benefit of pressing their bodies even closer together.

“Why did you come back to Norway?” Isak breaks the silence eventually, campfire roaring gently in front of them. He rolls his whole body to the side to watch Even reply, and Even does the same.

“Because my best friend was getting married,” Even replies, as if Isak didn’t know that. 

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Isak says, rolling his eyes. He moves his body closer to Even’s, pushing their chests together. “Why are you still here, now? After the wedding? Why do you want to travel Norway again all of a sudden?”

Even takes a breath, and then says, “At the wedding, I realised there’s a whole lot more that Norway can offer me.”

Isak searches Even’s eyes for a few moments, looking for the joke, the taunt, the teasing—but finds nothing but unadulterated honesty sparkling there. 

Isak nods, eyes flickering down to Even’s lips, which part as if putting on a show for an audience they’re eager to please. Isak leans further forward, bringing one hand up to Even’s cheek, resting the other on his chest.

He rolls Even onto his back, leans more heavily on his chest, and searches his eyes for an answer he already knows will be there.

Then, he lowers his head, tilting it slowly as he catches Even’s lips in a sweet, vulnerable kiss that makes his heart soar.

They kiss and kiss and kiss, never once letting it go further than sweet, than promising, than hopeful. They kiss until the fire burns out behind them, but it carries on burning in their eyes, in their lips, in their hearts.

They kiss until their lips are tingling and their hearts are pounding with excitement, with the anticipation for what they’ve got ahead of them.

“Ev?” Isak whispers not long after, feeling a little bit drunk despite not having drank anything, his head resting heavily on Even’s chest. 

“Yeah, Is?” Even replies, running the tips of his fingers gently up and down Isak’s spine.

“Did you already have plans to travel? Or did you just decide to when we started talking again?”

“The minute I saw you at the wedding I knew I’d made a mistake, Isak,” Even says, his voice sounding earnest. “That time when I said there’s nothing left for me in Oslo, Isak, I didn’t mean it like that. I just had so many plans to carry on travelling, I had people hiring me to take photos for them, I had so much I wanted to do. I just didn’t want to waste that opportunity. I asked you to come travelling with me again because I wanted to make it right between us. I wanted us to make new memories travelling, ones that are better than the last.”

Isak lifts his head from Even’s chest, kissing him gently again. “I’m glad you asked me, Even. We’re _so_ gonna make better memories.”

And when they carry on travelling, the next day and the day after that and the day after that, they carry on kissing and holding hands and taking pictures. They get complete strangers to take pictures of them kissing, of them hugging and being cheesy in front of beautiful views—and that’s really a true testimony to how much Even must like Isak, if he’s allowing strangers to hold and use his very fancy, very _expensive_ camera all in the name of getting him kissing Isak immortalised.

Eventually, they make it back to the airport in Stavanger that Isak was supposed to fly home from almost a week ago, Isak holding his boarding pass in one hand and Even’s hand in the other.

“You can come back to Oslo, you know. With me, I mean,” Isak says, wringing his hands nervously in front of him. “There’s more than enough space in the apartment now. You don’t even have to pay—Jonas and Mikael already did that, remember? You can stay for a few months and then decide what you want to do? No pressure or anything, just—“

He’s interrupted by a smiley kiss, which he returns immediately (what else is he supposed to do?). 

“Isak,” Even starts, stroking Isak’s cheeks with his thumbs. “You worry too much. All you had to do was ask, and I’d say yes, I promise.”

“Yeah?” Isak says.

“Yeah,” Even answers, punctuating it with a kiss.

“Okay then. Will you come back to Oslo with me, Even?”

“I’d do anything for you, Isak.”

**Author's Note:**

> i won't lie, i struggled quite a lot with this fic and wrote & checked the majority of it today and yesterday. i'm quite happy with how it turned out in the end, though :) 
> 
> if anyone's interested, i based the trip off of [this](http://www.lustfortheworld.com/1-week-in-norway-my-full-blown-itinerary/), and [this](https://www.fjordtours.com/things-to-do-in-norway/hiking/oslo-nature-walk-forest-to-fjord/) is the forest to fjord walk mentioned :)
> 
> come talk to me on [tumblr!](https://prettyisak.tumblr.com/)
> 
> comments & kudos are appreciated very much!! <3


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